


Above

by blackkat



Series: 64 Damn Prompts [51]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sci Fi, M/M, More than a little crackish, Presumed Dead, Rescue, Romance, Space Opera!Bleach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Closing his eyes, Ichigo resisted the urge to bang his head against the desk a few times and instead breathed, just loud enough for the comm to pick up the vibrations, "Shinji, they have Shuuhei." </p><p>(Also known as Bleach! Space Opera style!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Above

"Are you ready, Ichigo?" the dispatcher asked, for once completely serious. He had even put down the ridiculously inappropriate manga he had borrowed from Lisa and actually _looked up to do his job,_ so that his grim grey eyes were visible. Even through the holoscreen, his tension was clear.

Dangling a good hundred feet above the large space cruiser's docking bay, Ichigo cast a scowl at the screen on his wristband. "Is this _really_ the best time to be asking that, bastard?" he gritted out, tightening his legs around the coolant pipe he was hanging from as he pressed himself more tightly into the lone blind spot of the hourly security scan. "And don't call me that when I'm on a job!"

The serious look flickered, and then faded completely as a grin rushed over the blond's face. "Oh, I'm sorry, Deathberry. But, as arousing as it is to see how flexible you are, should you really be lingering? Your safe window is about to clo~ose." With the loss of seriousness, he'd regained the singsong tone that made Ichigo want to pound the blond's skull into the nearest unyielding surface.

Ichigo swore—at Shinji, his perverseness, the nickname, and the security system equally—then hooked one foot in the bend of the thick pipe, pulled himself up onto it, and drew a set of tools out of the slim pack on his back as he set to work on the control panel on the wall. A few moments later, the maintenance shaft beneath it slid open, and he contorted himself enough that he was able to swing over and slither through the narrow opening. It was usually only meant for service bots, but he was slender enough to manage the opening without too much trouble, and dropped lightly to the uncomfortably narrow walkway that branched out in every direction, vanishing into the depths of the ship. After waiting a moment to make sure he was steady, he hissed, "I hope to hell you have my map, Shinji, or so help me, the next time I see you, I'm going to shove my foot up your ass!"

"Temper, temper," Shinji sang happily. He was a bipolar bastard like that. "But you're welcome to try, of course." His eyes took on a perverted gleam—not that that was anything new. "I would be quite happy to reciprocate, my lovely Deathberry." Then the trace of seriousness took over again, and the sound of clicking keys came over the link. "All right, put the glasses on. The map should be up. If it's correct, it will tell you to take the next left."

Ichigo paused to slide the visor down over his eyes. For a moment, they were clear. Then a green light flickered on somewhere near his left eye and a narrow trail of blue light was suddenly superimposed over the maintenance shaft. The softly glowing marker ran straight for a few feet, and then veered sharply left, following one of the many catwalks that ran towards the crew's quarters. Ichigo grinned briefly in satisfaction, starting along the path. "Thanks, Shin. It actually worked this time."

"Of course it did!" Shinji beamed, ignoring the dig. He continued to click away on his keyboard for a few minutes until Ichigo reached the end of the blue trail, and then said, "You're over Engineering now. The engineer's room is right below you. Five more steps and you'll be right on top of him." There was a short pause, and then a plaintive wail. "No, Ichi-chan! Don't cheat on me! I'm sorry about that spacer bar, but I'll make it up to you! I swear!"

With a roll of his eyes, Ichigo muted his earpiece and shut of the screen, so that Shinji could hear and see him, but he didn't have to hear or see the asinine blond. "Save your mental breakdowns for when we have the luxury for that kind of thing. Right now, shut up and let me concentrate."

Carefully, he removed the access panel on the wall in front of him, and then slid headfirst through the narrow tunnel. It was tight, but there was enough room for him to maneuver his tools out again, to bypass the last security system and remove the final panel above the Chief Engineer's office. It swung up towards him, and he checked the room below. All clear, with a blinking computer console along the wall that looked to be his target. He slid down, turning over in the air and landing lightly on his feet.

His comm switched on again, Shinji having finally overridden the mute, and the Vizard leader hissed in his ear, "Damn it, Deathberry! I told you not to do that! You need my systems if you're going to get out of there in one piece."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and ducked under the computer unit, unhooking the panel and pulling out a red wire from the rainbow jumble within. Biting his tongue to keep in any retort—which more than likely would have alerted one of the engineers on duty outside the office, knowing his luck—he quickly stripped a small section and attached one of Hachi's bugs, then twisted it back up and hid it from view. "Done," he breathed, tapping his comm. "Shinji, are you in?"

There was a brief pause full of clacking computer keys, and then a triumphant mutter. "Got it! We're in the system, with full control of all security systems and all incoming and outgoing transmissions. Now you just need to—"

A sudden clatter outside to office door made Ichigo freeze and Shinji go silent. Both of them held their breath.

The noise came again, closer this time and definitely headed in Ichigo's direction.

"No, no, no, no." Shinji was muttering again as he typed. "Ichigo, get out. They've noticed the tweak you put on one of the drives and they're hauling the Chief Engineer out of bed to fix it. They're headed right for you! Hurry!"

Swearing silently, Ichigo fumbled for the panel, reattaching it as quickly as he could and wiping his DNA off so there would be no trace. Shinji's urging in his ear was unnecessary—he knew very well what Sosuke Aizen did to intruders and terrorists in his fleet. He and the Vizards had already lost three members while trying to take down the man's fledgling invasion fleet before it could get up to full strength. He didn't want to be the fourth. Even if he was in this for revenge against Aizen himself, she still didn't want to be face-to-face with him until all of their plans were in order.

As the metal clicked into place, Ichigo fought down the urge to snarl. Aizen had taken something—some _one_ —precious from him three years ago, and since there was no way to bring him back from the dead, Ichigo would settle for blowing the entire Espada fleet to space-junk and scrap.

"Out, out, out!" Shinji hissed, but the footsteps were too close now and coming fast. Ichigo darted a desperate glance around the room and dove under the desk. It was big and solid, bolted to the floor and more than dark enough underneath to hide in, so long as no one sat in the chair and looked directly at him. He could only hope that no one looked up and saw the open panel in the ceiling, either.

Half a heartbeat later, the door hissed open, and the marching feet stopped. Ichigo held his breath, peering out through the slight crack in the desk's back wall as two big men filled the doorway, another man all but suspended between them. They shoved him towards the computer, making him stagger, and the one on the left, blue-haired and built like a brawler, growled, "Get on with it, Hisagi."

The man turned to glare at him, and Ichigo caught his breath. A dead man, that was who was standing by the console. One Ichigo knew far too well. And, dark stars, this was the last thing he needed. Chief Engineer Shuuhei Hisagi of the _Suzumushi_ , presumed dead by the Seireitei fleet since his captain turned traitor, Ichigo's former husband-in-all-but-name, was apparently a prisoner on Aizen's flagship.

 _Damn it_. _Just what I fucking need. And just when I'd finished mourning the bastard, too._

"Fix this so we can get some fucking sleep, grease monkey," the other man, tall and scarecrow-thin, snapped, and then turned to guard the door as his blue-haired partner crossed his arms and glowered at the engineer.

Ichigo could feel an attack of stupid coming on.

Closing his eyes, he resisted the urge to bang his head against the desk a few times—certain to give away his position—and instead breathed, just loud enough for the comm to pick up the vibrations, "Shinji, they have Shuuhei."

There was silence over the line, and then the Vizard leader sighed wearily. Ichigo could all but see him pinching the bridge of his nose between log fingers. "You're going to do something dumb, aren't you?" he asked tiredly. "Wait, no, that's obvious. But…can you manage it _without_ getting the both of you killed?"

Ichigo looked out into the room, at the furious, dark-haired, beautiful man he'd been missing like a lost limb for three years now, and gritted his teeth. "Do you think I have any choice?"

Another moment of silence, and then Ichigo heard a few rapid key-clicks over the link. "All right," Shinji returned, sounding resigned. "I've isolated the comms those guards are wearing. If you can take them down quietly, no one should find out until you're well on your way. Hisagi's been given a six-hour window to fix whatever's going wrong, so you have at least an hour before they have to check in. Whatever you're going to do, you're clear."

"Thanks." Ichigo tapped the earpiece twice to indicate he was going silent, and then took a deep breath. Whatever he was doing, it was going to have to be _fast_.

Luckily, fast was his specialty.

Carefully, Ichigo inched around the edge of the desk, trying his best to avoid the blue-haired guard's line of sight, and braced himself. Better to take out the oblivious scarecrow one first, before he could make it through the door. _Quiet_ , he reminded himself. _Twelve other engineers and technicians on night shift, and fourteen to two aren't very good odds._

Shuuhei made a soft noise of frustration that Ichigo remembered well, drawing the brawny guard's attention to him, and Ichigo moved.

His hard, high kick caught the guard in the doorway in the back of the head. The thin man went down without a sound, hitting the floor like a sack of bones, but Ichigo didn't stay to catch him. He launched himself at the other guard, sheathed katana falling from its place strapped to his leg into his grip with practiced ease. Zangetsu was made by some of the finest swordsmiths this side of the Horsehead Nebula, and even the sheath was a weapon. Ichigo used it that way, slamming it up into the guard's jaw and knocking him out before he had time to do more than grunt in surprise. He collapsed, and Ichigo wasted no time dragging the other man out of the doorway and letting it slide shut.

"Ichigo?" Shuuhei whispered, and Ichigo turned to see those familiar grey eyes staring at him, not wide with shock, but narrowed with sudden understanding. Shuuhei was eternally self-possessed and always brilliant, and Ichigo could see the moment he got it, the pieces snapping together in his head as he glanced back at the console. "You were the one that disabled the engines?"

"This morning, early. I'm surprised it took this long for them to catch it," Ichigo acknowledged, stepping towards him. "Shuuhei, we've got to go. If someone tries to check in on your progress—"

"Right." Shaken out of whatever realization he'd had, Shuuhei snagged his toolkit from where it had been tossed at his feet and shouldered it, then looked at Ichigo. "I'm assuming you've got a backdoor somewhere?"

If Ichigo had had the second to spare, he would have rolled his eyes. Trust Shuuhei to be sensible to the point of boring during his own rescue. "Right," he echoed, leaping lightly onto the desk. "Not quite a backdoor, but no one ever looks up, right?"

Shuuhei took the hand that Ichigo offered and let the younger man pull him up as well, then paused. He looked at Ichigo for a moment, simply studying his features with an intensity that was almost unnerving, and nodded. "I'd forgotten," he said quietly, reaching out to trace his fingers lightly over Ichigo's cheek. "I'd almost forgotten what you looked like."

There was no grief in his voice, no mourning for things that he couldn't change, but there was regret. Ichigo hated to hear it, and it just made him want to pound Aizen's face in all the more. "Shuuhei—" he started.

Shinji, ever the master of perfect timing, cut him off. "Hey! You can do your lovebird impersonations later! Right now you two need to _move your asses_ , before they do a biosign scan and figure out there's one person too many in their little crew. Ichigo, I've rerouted the map to lead you right to the docking bay without any detours. Stealing the _Kyōka Suigetsu_ 's Chief Engineer will have to be sabotage enough for us today."

Ichigo winced at the barrage of orders, and offered Shuuhei a tight smile and a boost. "Shinji's getting jittery. We can talk later, let's move."

Shuuhei allowed Ichigo to help him scramble up into the shaft, disappearing into the maintenance tunnels. As soon as he was out of the way, Ichigo leapt up, hooked his fingers over the edge, and hauled himself up, kicking the trap door shut behind him. The other man was waiting at the edge of the catwalk grid, staring down at the excess of empty space below his feet with consternation. As Ichigo pulling himself out of the tunnel and reset everything, Shuuhei looked down at the redhead and said flatly, "Ichigo."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, vaulting to his feet and sliding his visor back into place. "Sorry, Shuuhei, I forgot your fear of heights. Utterly logical, by the way, seeing as you work in _space_. But next time I stage a rescue in the middle of the enemy's flagship, I'll make sure it's someplace closer to the ground."

Shuuhei's eye-roll was nearly audible, but he followed Ichigo through the maze of paths without comment. And if his grip on Ichigo's shoulder was a little bit tighter than was comfortable, Ichigo didn't mention it.

The very fact of his presence after three years of absence was more than enough in compensation.

* * *

"Oh, I _want_ ," Shuuhei murmured, climbing through one of the remote access ports on the side of the _Kyōka Suigetsu_ and into Ichigo's two-seater craft. It was all sleek and new and virtually undetectable, beyond even the newest models available to Aizen's fleet.

Ichigo grinned at him, brighter than anything Shuuhei had seen in a long time, and dropped into the pilot's seat. "How about you let me get us back to the _Sakanade_ in one piece before you start planning how to dismantle it? I'm sure Urahara'd be overjoyed to explain the design to you."

That drew Shuuhei's attention away from the ship. He settled in the copilot's chair and glanced curiously at his partner. "Urahara? I thought you hated the Vizards. How did you end up working for them?"

Ichigo kept his eyes fixed firmly on the instrument panel as he started the disengagement sequence. Maybe soon he'd be able to control the emotion that burned high up in his chest whenever he caught sight of Shuuhei, or smelled the unique mix of grease, ozone, coolant, and spice that always followed him, or heard his voice, but for now it burned like a brand around his heart. Swallowing, he cleared his throat. "I thought he killed you, Shu," he said simply. "What else was I going to do?"

Neither of them had ever put much stock in romantic gestures or soft moments, but now Shuuhei couldn't stop his hand from finding Ichigo's, their fingers twining together as though they'd never come apart. He didn't speak as Ichigo input their course and set the autopilot, but as soon as the last switch was engaged, he grabbed the younger man's hand and hauled him out of his chair, tumbling them into the small cargo area. They hit the ground, Ichigo on the bottom, and the shock of skin on skin after three empty years was like the very first time all over again.

"Goddamn it, Ichigo," Shuuhei hissed, shaking away the pain of bruises from rough handling. "I _missed_ you."

Ichigo laughed, short and sharp, and dragged Shuuhei's head down by his spiky hair in answer. He kissed Shuuhei like it was the first and last time, pressing, devouring, hot and sharp and almost painful, teeth and tongue used in equal measure. Shuuhei returned it the same way, reacquainting himself with Ichigo's taste—warmth and peppermint and _human_ , so very, very human. Each touch of skin was electric, each brush of their bodies so sweet it hurt, and when they drew apart, Shuuhei was all but certain that half of his mental capacity was melted into mush from the sheer _joy_ of being back together.

" _Fuck_ ," Ichigo hissed, and then clever hands were at Shuuhei's pants, scrabbling with his belt and trying to get everything off at once. Shuuhei wasn't any better, his fingers too easily distracted in their task as he recalled sensitive spots and old marks that hadn't been there in three years. By the time they'd both managed to get their pants and boxers down around their ankles, Ichigo was arching against him, muttering long strings of curses, and all Shuuhei needed to let go completely was one more touch the right way.

Then Ichigo hooked a leg around his hip and flipped them over, bring their bodies into perfect alignment. Shuuhei hissed and grabbed his ass, grinding their lower bodies together so tightly that it almost hurt, the dry slide of soft skin just this side of too much. One of them moaned, though Shuuhei couldn't have said which, and their mouths met in another hot, sloppy kiss before Ichigo pulled away, grinding his hips in short circles guaranteed to drive Shuuhei out of his mind. Then Ichigo's sharp teeth settled ever-so-lightly over the pulse point in Shuuhei's neck, the one spot that always felt like it had a direct line to his cock, and pressed. Shuuhei bucked with a shout, fire racing through his nerve endings as wet heat spread between them. Ichigo dropped his face into the crook of Shuuhei's neck as he followed him over the edge.

* * *

Some indeterminate amount of time later, Ichigo opened his eyes to see Shuuhei staring down at him with something dangerously close to adoration, and blinked for a moment. Then, quite without his permission, he felt a smile begin to touch his lips.

"You're alive," he said quietly, wonderingly, lifting one hand to trace his partner's face in an echo of Shuuhei's earlier gesture. "You're really here."

Shuuhei leaned in and stole a brief kiss, drawing back enough to smile gently at him. "Yeah. But just see if I let you take me up on a catwalk ever again. I think I've had enough to last a lifetime, both of narrow causeways over empty space and tight, cramped crawlways."

"You're welcome," Ichigo interjected dryly. "Seeing as I saved your ass."

"I had a plan, thank you," Shuuhei countered instantly. "It was still a work in progress."

"Three years? That's a lot of progress." The redhead sounded skeptical.

"Oi," Shinji called over the ship's speakers. "Are you two done yet? That was worse than listening to Rose and Love get it on. Especially when I have to hear you bicker like a married couple afterwards!"

Shuuhei and Ichigo exchanged chagrined glances. "Uh, oops?" the brunet offered a touch sheepishly, but he was grinning. Ichigo caught his eye, and it turned out to be too much. They both burst into laughter.

Three years of pain and loneliness couldn't be put away that easily, but above all, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

"Love you," Shuuhei murmured, leaning over to kiss Ichigo once more, his grey eyes bright.

"Love you more," Ichigo countered, accepting it and trying not to grin.

"Impossible," the engineer scoffed.

It was an old argument, familiar, and Ichigo had never in his life heard anything sweeter.


End file.
